


A Pearson Autumnal Bash

by SuzyQSmilesForYou



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Company Hazing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2679194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuzyQSmilesForYou/pseuds/SuzyQSmilesForYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The firm's pseudo-Thanksgiving party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pearson Autumnal Bash

**Author's Note:**

> This entry follows chapter ten of It's the Little Things, but it's longer than a short and can also be seen as an alternative epilogue to Honey Trap. Basically, if you've read those (or even if you haven't) then you should get a kick out of this...I hope.
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving!

“Mike, it’s time to go.”

“Hang on a sec, Harold.”

Tonight was the Pearson…(that one name by itself still sounded weird weeks after Hardman’s ejection) Autumn Party. Nobody in the bullpen knew what it would be like, and the older associates and partners weren’t talking. The latter had left an hour ago, but the rookie associates were stuck at the office until 8:30 trying to finish up all the work for the week. Or at least, Mike was trying to finish up all the work for the week; Harvey had offered him a mystery incentive, providing he didn’t need to come in tomorrow and spend his Saturday finishing up the last of his backlog from their vacation.

“C’mon, Ross. There’s gonna be free champagne and steak, and you’re here correcting briefs,” Kyle mocked as he shrugged on his heavy coat. “Devon and Jeffrey left twenty minutes ago.”

“How do you know there’s going to be champagne?” Harold inquired as he wrapped his scarf around his neck. “Harvey just rolled his eyes when I dared to ask him about it.”

“Psh, we’re the best law firm in the city, and if Louis expects me to not deck him in the face for all the shit he’s put us through, he’d better make with the bubbly.”

“I don’t think we’d even get table scraps if Louis were in charge of the party.”

“Hey dorkface,” Kyle mocked as he leaned over Mike’s monitor. “Are you coming or what? Because if you’d really rather stay here, I’ll tell Wendy to give me your entrée.”

“I’d have been done ages ago if you could learn to spell, Durant,” Mike replied, clicking his pen shut. “Repeat after me: L-I-T-I-G-I-O-U-S. There’s no ‘e’ anywhere in that word.”

The dark-haired associate narrowed his eyes and stared Mike down as he tapped the pile of documents down into a neat heap. Kyle turned and started to follow Harold into the lobby, but stopped at the reception desk and called back, “H-A-R-V-E-Y-S-B-O-Y-T-O-Y. Don’t even try to deny it dweeb, though I’ll never know how a legendary lawyer like him could fall for you.”

Mike hurriedly threw on his own coat, a (slightly) ratty holdover from his bike messenger days. Jessica had visibly blanched when she saw him wearing it for the first time at the office this morning, silently waving for Wendy to stop him from joining her client meeting. In his defense, Mike had meant to schedule a meeting with René for outerwear when he and Harvey had gotten back from California. But then Louis had dumped a stack of research on his desk and Rachel came by for an LSAT study session at lunch, etc.

From a life of pot and poverty to a life of stress and snobbery: the Mike Ross story.

The associate ran down to Louis’ office and dumped an eight-pound pile of documents between the pictures of his cat, then made another sortie over to Wendy’s desk, depositing two enormous boxes containing the fruits of three (non-consecutive) all-nighters. He did a little touchdown dance there in the dark before remembering his colleagues and sprinting to the elevator.

“Goodnight, Mike.”

“Goodnight, Manuel. Have fun with your girlfriend at the aquarium!” he shouted across the main lobby, diving into the backseat of the cab waiting out front.

“Damnit, I guess the dweeb made it. We’re going to…wait, what’s the address again?”

“ _Vine & Vino_,” Harold informed the taxi driver, leaning around the driver’s backseat. “It’s at the corner of Greene & Grand.” The Sikh man silently nodded, scratching a sweaty tuft of hair sticking out from under his turban as he pulled away from the curb.

“I’m so glad I don’t have to see that place or another damn pro bono until Monday,” Kyle yawned as he stretched his arms. (Why had Harold let him call shotgun?) “Maybe I can finally get a date with Rachel now that we have a weekend free.”

Mike drowned out the word “tool” in a fake cough.

“Weren’t you the one who complained about being put on admin leave and being forced to work from home?”

“Only cause I knew you’d miss me, losers.”

“Y’know, for someone who almost lost his job and only ended up saved because-”

Mike whacked Harold on the arm. He’d no desire to reveal to Kyle who was responsible for bailing the idiot out of a pink slip. Truth be told, Harold wouldn’t have found out if not for Rachel cracking a joke in the presence of the curly-haired blond.

“Because Jessica knows I’m the only man who can make the bullpen work when Louis is busy scheduling his next mudding appointment? Yeah, I know.”

“Can we just have a truce for the party? None of us wants to look bad in front of the higher-ups,” Harold reasoned.

“Tell that to Mike – Harvey has to look at him naked on a semi-regular basis. Or do you two screw through a hole in the sheets?” Kyle sniped from the front seat. Mike had a huge desire to kick the back of it, but he didn’t want to piss off their driver. “Yeah, okay, whatever. It’s not like I’m going to sit anywhere near you two, so what’s the difference?”

“Thanks,” the curly blond answered, typing a reminder to read a bedtime story to his cactus into his phone. (Harold had told Mike about an article he’d read earlier in the week that claimed that plants needed emotional support. Sometimes it was best to just smile and nod.)

“Greene and Grand? This is your stop, yes?” the driver asked some time later, turning to Harold.

“Yeah, this is us…”

“Last one out pays!” Kyle decreed, throwing his door open and sprinting for the restaurant.

“Mike, I think I’ve got a ten in my wallet-”

“No worries, Harold. Go on ahead.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yup,” Mike nodded, turning back to the exhausted taxi driver. “Sat Sri Akaal, bro.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You still gotta pay the full fare, bud,” the driver maintained, shaking his head in the rear-view mirror.

“Darn, and I was gonna give you a nice tip, too,” the blond feigned, reaching for his wallet.

“Hey, hey, there’s no need for hard feelings. I’m more than willing to overlook some bad Punjabi for some good currency,” the driver grinned, taking the fare and the promised extra from the blond. “Have a good night, brother.”

“You, too, pal,” Mike concluded, hopping out of the car and shutting both his and Kyle’s doors before heading over to the restaurant. When he got into the lobby he found Donna blocking access into the main dining room.

“You three are late, which is an unexpected problem; usually newbies try to get into the party early to skip out on their work.”

“So it’s a good thing, then?” Harold inquired hopefully.

“Harold, I don’t like the unexpected. Do you have any idea how long Wendy and I spend planning firm engagements?”

“Uhm, we’re sorry?”

“That apology was insufficiently sincere. Here, give me your coats and wear these,” Donna ordered as she retrieved a box from underneath the hostess’ podium. First, she retrieved a tiara, which she handed to Mike.

“Ha ha ha, that is the best thing I’ve ever seen!” Kyle guffawed, clapping his hands against his thighs.

“Do I really have to wear-”

“Yes. Kyle, here’s yours,” Donna announced, handing the dark-haired man a dunce cap. He took it reluctantly, the blood already draining from his face. “And yours, Harold,” she finished, handing the other associate a hard hat.

“I’m not wearing-”

“Oh yes you are,” Wendy retorted, emerging from behind the heavy doors to the dining room. “C’mon, boys, I’ll take you to your seats of honor.”

Mike gulped. He really didn’t like the sound of that.

“-that’s why I’m happy to announce a five-percent raise to every member of our custodial staff. Let’s be honest: we’d all be swimming in rubbish and choking on dust if it weren’t for you,” Jessica read out into a microphone near the big table at the back of the dining room. The emerald gown she wore glimmered in the spotlight (because of course it did). “And I’d like to take this moment, on behalf of Isabelle, to remind the partners that we are responsible for cleaning out the refrigerator in the executive lounge. There’d better not be any more expired dairy in that thing come Monday afternoon.”

The rest of the room was dark and obscured by hanging potted plants, so Mike couldn’t make out everything, but it seemed like the partners were sitting on two narrow balconies on the sides of the room, with the associates, paralegals, secretaries, receptionists, and janitors seated at a number of circular tables in the main area. There was a single unoccupied table in the dead center of the room, and as Wendy led them to it, Mike could see that it was the kind of pink, plastic number intended for little girls’ outdoor birthday parties.

In other words, the hazing still wasn’t over.

“That’s Mr. Mike, sweetie!” a figured noted in a stage whisper. The blond turned and caught sight of Ray with a perplexed little girl sitting very properly in the seat beside him.

“Is Mr. Mike a fairy princess, daddy?” she asked him.

“Wha- oh,” Harvey’s driver caught himself, his face contorting as he held back a laugh. “Let’s listen to Miss Jessica. We can ask him about that later, okay?”

“Okay.”

“As I’m sure all of you know, this is my favorite part of the night. We’ve hired three new associates in the past year, and it wouldn’t be right to let them get off without a proper induction, would it?”

The audience began chanting their approval as Wendy commanded the three men to their seats. The table only reached the middle of the associates’ calves, so that they vaguely resembled a Shriners gathering, only with more varied headwear.

“Pop quiz time. And lest you think I’ll let my associate off easy, I’ll give the question to him. Mike, what’s your favorite thing about me?”

Jessica’s assistant thrust a microphone into the blond’s hand as he struggled to think of a response appropriate for the assembled masses of the firm. Unfortunately, all his eidetic memory could produce at the moment was…

“Uh…er…uhmmm…your wardrobe?”

There was a split second of silence in the room, as if Mike’s co-workers were unable to believe what he’d just said. When they had, they erupted into humiliating laughter.

“I think we can all agree that my associate doesn’t have the elevator speech concept quite mastered. I meant your favorite thing about _working for me_. But that’s okay, because he more than redeems himself in other ways. For example…Louis, pick any article of any New York state law of your choice.”

“Employer’s Liability, article six,” the junior partner shouted from one of the balconies. Jessica quirked her eyebrow and the spotlight returned to the pink table.

“Uhhh, let’s see… _defense; insurance fund. An employer who shall have contributed to an insurance fund created and maintained for the mutual purpose of indemnifying an employee for personal injuries, for which compensation may be recovered under this article, or to any relief_ -”

“That’s good enough. And I could probably get a similar answer from Kyle about the state’s breaking and entering statute,” Jessica noted snarkily. “Now I think we’ve all gotten to know these three a little over the past several months, but that’s nothing compared to the poor soul who’s been their life preserver day in and day out. I speak, of course, of Rachel Zane. Between research assignments for us partners, Miss Zane somehow finds the patience to walk our newest hires through the sorts of activities they really should have learned in law school.”

“Oh shit,” Kyle muttered as Rachel walked towards the microphone, an evil grin on her face. “I don’t think any of us will make partner after this.”

“Thank you, Jessica. You know, these three guys are actually pretty good by new hire standards. Kyle, for instance, can present a compelling argument in mock trial and probably real-life trials. He writes at a second grade level, but as long as he stays away from any sort of written assignment or attempt at evidence-gathering, he’s alright.”

Okay, maybe it made Mike a horrible person, but this was the kind of situation where he was glad he’d bailed Kyle out of getting axed by his boss. The usually asinine associate couldn’t even hide his face, as the dunce cap threatened to slip off his head.

“And Harold is conversely fantastic at paperwork, which is why Harvey probably hired him in the first place. Though I fear for his clients the day he starts arguing cases on his own and draws Judge Schippman…or Judge Ritzoff…or any judge whose courtroom voice is more forceful than a gentle whisper.”

His eyes having adjusted, Mike turned and tried to find Harvey in the row of partners. The brunet was inexplicably wedged between Paul from Bankruptcy and that woman whom he’d still yet to meet, but who always seemed to have a bear claw in her hands in the morning. For his part, Harvey simply maintained a blank expression; to anyone else it might have conveyed disinterest, but Mike was pretty sure the big guy was trying to silently stick up for his beet-red associate.

“And then there’s Mike. Mike, I don’t think there’s a word in the English language that accurately describes you. There definitely isn’t one in Spanish – that I know for sure,” Rachel considered, setting down her notes. “I’ll never forget your third day on the job - you recited half of the majority decision of a case from 1965 I was researching, and then you promptly asked me how to fill out a subpoena.”

The audience burst into hysterics for the fourth time since the three associates had arrived, and Mike quietly adjusted the plastic tiara. Even Harvey was smirking as he shook his head in judgment.

“And let’s not forget that…thing…you wore in the office the day you interviewed with Jessica. In fact, in case any of you didn’t see it, Donna managed to discreetly snap a picture of Mike sitting in the waiting area…Donna, could you give me a hand with the projector?”

Donna appeared from the side and pressed a couple of buttons, causing the spotlight to go dark and a gigantic image of Mike in his pre-René suit to appear on the curtains of the window in the back. Mike still didn’t see what was so bad about the thing, but the crowd got a kick out of it.

“And with that travesty etched into even your non-eidetic minds for eternity, I’d like to turn the mic over to the women who deal with these guys the other half of the time. I speak of their bosses’ executive assistants; since Donna is already up here, I’ll let her go first.”

“Thanks, Rachel. Y’know, for a long time I thought I’d never have the opportunity to torture a little baby lawyer, mostly because Harvey is…not the ideal mentor. Sorry, boss,” Donna shouted to the senior partner, who took a sip of champagne to hide his reaction. “Harold, you’ve come an awful long way from your first week. Whether it was the pep talks I had to give you as you cried on the floor of the women’s bathroom or the amount of times I needed to Febreeze Harvey’s office after you dropped your lunch in terror, I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

Harold quietly pulled the brim of the hard hat lower on his face, so Mike patted the curly-haired associate on the back to shore up his resolve.

“And yet you have, and I’m glad. Not only for the delicious caffeinated beverages you bring me on a semi-regular basis. Not only for the way you try to keep the peace in the bullpen…which frankly, Devon and Jeffrey, cut that out – you’re not newbies anymore…but that’s not the point. Harold, it’s been great to have someone to share the burden of trying to keep up with Harvey’s relentless appetite for more business. Most of all, thank you for not being a gigantic pain in my side,” Donna remarked with a broad grin. “I look forward to working with you for many years to come – whether that be as an associate, or almost certainly someday down the road, a partner.”

Jessica reassumed the microphone long enough to get a round of “hear, hears” going around the dining room, and Harvey, shockingly, clinked his fork against his champagne glass in agreement.

“Norma, do you want to-”

The spotlight roamed the room until it reached the older woman, who was thoroughly occupied by her steak. She turned her head up and shook it vigorously, instead pointing in the direction of her boss. Louis looked a bit panicked, but was helpless to stop the inevitable as Donna approached him with the microphone.

“Why do I have to-”

“C’mon, Louis. It’s for Kyle’s sake,” Donna smirked as she practically pulled him up from his chair.

“I – well…you’ve done a good job, Kyle,” Louis noted in monotone, already trying to hand the microphone back to Donna. “What do you mean that’s not enough?”

Quietly at first, a chorus of boos began to fill the air, followed by people banging their arms down on their tables. Jessica and Donna crossed their arms across her chests and stared down the junior partner until he crumpled and turned the mic back on.

“Fine. Kyle, I don’t like to compliment the associates because so often I’ve seen my words go your heads, but _if I must_ ,” he hissed to the audience. “Kyle, you’re one of the hires I’m most proud of. Your oral arguments are always forceful, never vague or vacillating, and despite the way it sometimes feels I have to drag paperwork out from under your fingernails, you always get the gist of the matter. We all know how the partners at Wakefield-Cady and Rand, Calder, and Zane like to insult us to our faces, but behind closed doors they’re terrified, and it’s because of associates like you who get down in the dirt and do the hard labor. You’re one of the lions of this firm.”

The black-haired associate on Mike’s right seemed generally grateful, even remembering the enormous cone occupying the airspace above him. Harold raised his glass this time, and another round of cheers rang out as Louis practically hurled the microphone away from himself.

“Right, well I guess that leaves me, then,” Wendy surmised as she just barely caught the electronic device, tapping it a tad hesitantly to test for feedback. “Mike, you’re no average lawyer, that’s for sure.”

Mike caught Jessica and Harvey exchanging carefully concealed snickers of amusement out of the corner of his eyes.

“Like Donna, I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of having to deal with an associate mentee on a regular basis. That’s probably a result of a lot of the opposing counsels and their own associates treating me like garbage because I don’t have a JD. Now you can be a smart aleck sometimes, sure; you’re also a tad dramatic. I mean, you practically yip like a dog every time you get to leave the office for a client meeting. Of course, were I a lawyer, I’d probably also point out the way you empathize with all said clients.”

Jessica nodded in agreement from her seat.

“But I’m not, and frankly, I don’t see it as a problem. You’re weird and you haven’t been around that long, but already I can’t imagine what the firm would be like without you. So please don’t do something dumb and get replaced by the summer associate d…” she halted herself after catching sight of Ray’s daughter, “loudmouth.”

Mike mouthed a thank you to his boss’s assistant as she handed the microphone back to her and another round of cheers resounded through the hall. He definitely _did not_ shed a tear, because he was a fairy princess and princesses were above such common displays of emotion.

“What say you, partners? Shall we acknowledge these three young lawyers?”

Roars of (slightly rehearsed) approval burst forth from the two balconies. Mike was suddenly curious about how far back this ritual went in the firm’s canon of traditions.

“I agree. Harold Gunderson, Kyle Durant, and Mike Ross: you are now full members of the firm. You can also now remove your headwear-” Jessica informed. She didn’t even finish her sentence before the three associates freed themselves from the props. “-and take your actual seats at that table over there.

“Partners, we’ve finished inductions. Yes, it’s that time again – time to announce who won the firm’s most coveted prize.” Jessica paused as the balconies erupted into groans and the partners turned their heads to Louis and Harvey. “The lawyer with the highest billables puts the most money into the pot, not only for quarterly dividends, but also for everything from that new copier in the workroom to events this one tonight. Some of you prefer to keep track of your work in a win/loss ratio; I respect that. Yet the fact remains that the firm is a business, and without revenue we could serve no one, especially not the many needy pro bono clients who come to us with nowhere else to turn.

“This year a number of complaints were directed to me as the result of a disciplinary decision I made. Though the details of that decision are confidential, I fear many of you may have come to learn the details through the rumor mill. Rest assured, after considering the matter I determined that the prize should be awarded, regardless.”

From his new vantage point, Mike could see that Louis had one of his stress balls in hand. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was definitely glad that he wouldn’t be back in the bullpen the next day.

“Without any further ado,” Jessica began as Wendy handed her an envelope, “the winner of this year’s Top Biller award goes to…Carol?”

“I WON?!” the female partner screamed in disbelief. “I WON! OHMYGODIWONIWONIWON!” she shouted as she ran over to the main table and snatched the trophy from a bemused Jessica. “I never thought this day would come! I WON! IN YOUR FACE, LOUIS!!”

Mike turned from an equally perplexed Louis to a suspiciously calm Harvey. Before he could try to ask him anything, though, club music started playing and the spotlight dimmed, replaced by the beams of a disco ball.

“Business is over. Let’s clear these tables and chairs out of the way so we can finally get to dancing,” Donna ordered.

\-----

“What do you mean I can’t be a fairy princess?” Harvey asked Mariam as he adjusted the plastic tiara on his head. “You said Mike was a fairy princess, and the only thing princessy about him was this tiara.”

“But you don’t act like a princess,” Ray’s daughter countered.

“I don't?”

“No. You act like a lion or a bear.”

“You mean, like this?” Harvey inquired as he started to roar and mussed up her hair, causing the prim little girl to implode into giggles. Normally he wouldn’t be this open around his coworkers, but most of them were tipsy and the music prevented any eavesdropping, anyway.

“Are you harassing Mariam?” Donna asked as she joined them far from the dance floor. “Just say the word and I’ll make him stop; he’s powerless against me.”

“Not tonight. I have Mike’s fairy princess tiara; I’m unstoppable with its…princessyness,” he claimed, rising to exchange a covert wink with his assistant.

“Oh no, Mariam – what are we going to do?”

“We need to get Mr. Mike! He’ll be able to stop Harvey!”

“Let’s hurry,” Donna cried as the two females rushed toward the blond, who was performing all the moves of _Stayin’ Alive_ between Rachel and Harold.

“You want to explain that little stunt you pulled with the highest billables award?” Jessica asked, appearing out of seemingly nowhere. “Carol always comes in fourth except for that one year she managed to beat Richard for third.”

“And this year, when she won.”

“Harvey, Louis was out of the competition with all those pro bonos. That was your trophy to win, not to mention-”

“The right to pick out what food is served at partners’ meetings for the next year?” Harvey predicted. “Y’know, Donna told me there’s a rumor that Carol is going vegan to try and lose weight. But that’s neither here nor there. Look, you gave me Louis’ clients to work on for a month. It wouldn’t be ethical to take those billables for myself, so I donated them to Carol.”

“So you passed up the trophy just to speed up the partners’ meetings? That’s your reasoning, right?- if people have to choose between eating something disgusting and going hungry, they won’t ask any questions that might prolong the torture?” Jessica reasoned, shaking her head even though Harvey knew she was impressed. “But the fact remains, you lost what might be your only shot at getting that trophy. And don’t tell me you don’t care about something like that, because I’ve never heard you sing kumbaya.”

“You never won that trophy, and you don’t technically have to recuse yourself from the contest, Jessica. What’s the matter – you don’t want to risk Louis’ ire for a whole year?”

“Touché,” the managing partner conceded. “Wendy and I are off to the diner to save our booth. Oh, and Mariam’s right about the tiara – it really doesn’t suit you one bit.”

Harvey rolled his eyes at the woman. She could really be a sore loser sometimes.

“See? He has your tiara, Mr. Mike!” Mariam explained to the blond.

“And he was using it for evil?”

“He messed up my hair!”

“How dare you?!” Mike demanded, tut-tutting for extra effect. “I leave you alone to have fun dancing with my colleagues and you take the opportunity to assault Lady Mariam’s dignity.”

“What are you going to do about it, rookie?”

“You can’t call me that – I’m a full member of the firm now.”

“As a rookie.”

“Dude, that’s not right.”

“Don’t call me-”

“Boys, boys, boys. There’s no need to argue. Mike is clearly a rookie, and Harvey is clearly distracted,” Donna judged, snatching the tiara from his head and placing it on Mariam’s. “Besides, Mariam is the only real candidate for princess here, and it’s almost her bedtime.”

“Awwwww, but I wanna stay.”

“I don’t think you do, kiddo. I really don’t think you do,” the redhead advised. “You see, lawyers are like werewolves. Most of the time, they’re really busy and totally boring, but on this night they act more like-”

“Silly people?”

“That’s a good way to put it, sweetie,” Ray nodded as he returned from the restroom. “Are you ready to go?”

“Can I have one last glass of juice?”

“Nope. If you drink any more sugar you won’t be able to get to sleep tonight.”

“Drat. Alright, goodnight Queen Donna, goodnight Mr. Mean Ol’ Harvey, goodnight Prince Mike. It was nice to meet you. Tell Empress Jessica, Duchess Wendy, Countess Rachel, and Jester Louis goodnight for me, okay?” she asked as she and her father exited the dining room.

“Will do,” Harvey pledged, making a mental reminder to get her a stuffed animal for Christmas to redeem her esteem for him. “Jessica and Wendy already left.”

“The staff said they’ll handle the cleanup, and I gave them permission to shove out lingerers,” Donna assured. “C’mon; I don’t want to stick around and watch everyone get frisky.”

“Wait? Where are we going?” Mike asked, confused. “I didn’t even get a chance to eat!”

“There’s food at the destination.”

“Awww, but I missed out on lunch! I really wanted a steak.”

“Not my problem. Let’s grab our coats and-”

“Way ahead of you boss,” Donna taunted, holding out Harvey’s wool coat and…

“What the hell is that?!”

“It’s my coat,” the blond answered, as though the moth-eaten, tattered mess of cheap fabric were completely normal.

“Where did it come from? Where do you keep finding these things?”

“It was in the hallway closet.”

“ _Our hallway closet?_ ”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You’re not wearing that.”

“Dude, you can’t keep forcing me to throw out my old clothes.”

“Guys, I think I’m going to go hail us a cab,” Donna announced awkwardly, retreating from view.

“I can and will.”

“What’s wrong with this coat? Just because my fashion sense doesn’t align with yours-”

“It’s got holes everywhere, Mike. There’s no way on earth this thing actually keeps you warm – which, by the way, is my concern.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. By some divine miracle I’ve come to accept that you like wearing unflattering crap, but I will not accept you getting sick because you were too cheap to spend money on clothes that are structurally sound. Here,” he grumbled, handing the blond his own coat. “You can have mine for tonight, but this thing goes in the trash.”

“I could at least donate that-”

“Even the Salvation Army would pitch this thing in the garbage, Mike.”

“Fine.”

“And tomorrow we will inspect every article of clothing you have and throw out anything with a hole.”

“Dude, one or two holes are fine!”

“God, you sound just like Marcus,” Harvey noted irritably. “Ugh, let’s go. Donna has probably flagged something down by now.”

“You still love me, though, right?” the blond asked nervously as he shrugged into Harvey’s coat.

“If I didn’t, I’d have already dumped you for someone who respects himself enough to keep a proper wardrobe.”

“That’s ice cold.”

Harvey grabbed Mike’s arm and pulled him to a halt. Checking to make sure nobody was watching, he leaned in and kissed the idiot hard and long.

“I still can’t believe that Jessica’s clothes were the first thing that popped up when she asked you that surprise question,” the brunet whinged. “I’m a way better dresser.”

“You forget that I’ve gotten pretty used to seeing you without any clothes, but I will admit that this wool is pretty damn nice. How much did this thing cost?”

“Four-fifty.”

“Four…hundred-and-”

“I promise he’s a decent guy!”

Harvey switched his attention from Mike’s latest freakout to catch sight of Donna and Louis standing by the window of a cab. It seemed like his assistant was arguing with the driver, and he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with that. The idea of a cab driver turning down Louis as a customer would be a fantastic highlight of the evening.

“Hey, bro!” Mike called out, wandering over to the driver’s door. “What are still doing here in this part of town?”

“You said there was a party,” the South Asian guy responded. “I figured I’d swing back and see if I couldn’t get some easy passengers.”

“Then why won’t you take me?!” Louis cried.

“You’re all by yourself. And that means you’re a single fare…and you’re probably an asshole.” (The cabbie was more right than he could possibly know.) “Everyone else who’s come has at least been in a pair.”

“That’s discrimination!”

“No worse than what I get all the time.”

“You can’t-”

“Look, if I vouch for him, will you take him?”

“Only if he tips as well as you.”

“Scout’s honor,” Mike swore, holding up his right hand in a gesture that in no way resembled something from the Boy Scouts. “Louis, does that work for you?”

“Fine, sure, whatever. I don’t get my trophy, I have to give a speech to Kyle because my secretary can’t be bothered; I just want this night to be over already.”

“Don’t forget, there’s a partners’ meeting on Tuesday,” Harvey added as the junior partner fumbled with his seatbelt. The resulting stream of curses only abated when Louis shut the door. “Now will you tell me who that guy was?”

“Why should I?” Mike guarded as Donna waved her arms at another approaching taxi.

“For starters, I gave you my coat.”

“After you took mine!”

“So?”

\-----

“The usual?”

“Not quite. We have an extra tonight, so it’ll be five slices of Dutch apple pie with two scoops of crème de menthe on the first, two scoops of pistachio on the second, two scoops of peppermint on the third, and two scoops of raspberry on the fourth like normal, and then a scoop each of chocolate, cookies and cream, caramel, and cake batter on the last one,” Harvey ticked off as Mike just barely kept himself from drooling all over the display case. “Oh, and knowing his metabolism, we’d better make that two scoops of chocolate. And some hot decaf all around.”

“Thank youuuuuuuuu,” the blond crooned with dreamy eyes and an empty stomach while they ambled their way back to the semi-circular booth. As soon as they sat down, he grabbed his fork and held it upright in anticipation. "This more than makes up for those all-nighters."

“Jesus, he might devour our hands if we lay them on the table,” Donna warned, stuffing her phone back in her clutch. “But back to what we were discussing, Wendy. When does Marcus get back for good?”

“I…dunno.”

“Oh, don’t lie to me, Wendy. I know you called him while I was making sure the AV system worked.”

“Fourteen days,” she admitted, blushing.

“And I just know he’s going to make me move furniture or clean that apartment he landed. Can you believe he found a place on Park Slope for $1200 a month?” Harvey groaned.

“Technically, your friend Peter’s…friend Neal sweet-talked that old lady into subletting her second floor.”

“And the worst part is, now someone I know is living in Brooklyn of all places... _again_.”

“Hey! Grammy lives in Brooklyn. And what’s so bad about King’s County, anyway?” Mike needled, tapping the handle of his fork against the table. “Wendy, Donna, back me up here.”

“Sorry, kiddo. I’m a Manhattan girl.”

“Only since you moved here from Connecticut,” Wendy laughed, earning a derisive glare. “And I’m a Harlem girl since I was born. You B&Ters, present or past, need to fight your own battles.”

“Ahh, so we’re back to arguing about which borough is supreme?” Jessica inquired as stepped back into the small diner from her sidewalk phone call. “It’s almost Thanksgiving. Shouldn’t we be talking about what we’re grateful for?”

“You don’t sound like my boss,” Mike judged with a furrowed brow. “Where’s the real Jessica?”

“I'll let that slide since you apparently got all my work done," his boss explained. "Fine. Let’s do what we always do here after the autumn party.”

“You mean-”

“Take bets on who’s going to end up sleeping with whom tonight?” Donna completed a little too eagerly.

“Bingo. I’m putting down two of Louis’ bran bars on Regina and Richard. She’s worked her way back around, so it’ll be him or Jeffrey,” Jessica began, testing her pen on her napkin. “And just to clarify: the loser has to steal them from the break room.”

“Carol and the cleaning guy who comes in from Wednesday through Saturday,” Harvey wagered.

“That’s Russ.”

“Whoever. And I want three blueberry muffins; they’re going to be a hot commodity once we’re forced to go vegan.”

“Wait, I thought you were a gentleman?”

“I am,” Harvey corrected his boyfriend, “but Carol isn’t a lady. Especially after how much champagne she had after winning that trophy.”

“You guys are pretty awful.”

“Welcome to family, Mike,” Wendy declared sarcastically, before laying out her theory of the entire firm’s coital itinerary for that evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Who do you think ordered which ice cream flavors?
> 
> One of the answers should be easy for anyone who watched the show thoroughly. The rest are just luck, I'm afraid.


End file.
